Superwholock Games
by Timelords-and-Winchesters
Summary: What would happen if the characters from Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock were all selected as tributes for the 183rd annual Hunger Games? The characters are all in the arena creating, surviving obstacles, and fighting to the death. Collaboration with winchestersangel. Possibly Destiel
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I am back yet again for another story! This is the one that I wrote with my friend Noura, otherwise known as winchestersangel. It is the Superwholock Hunger Games! I think it's pretty awesome so far, and I can't wait to hear what you think of it! So read it and be sure to review it! Ahhh thanks for clicking on this story all you lovely people!**

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**Superwholock Hunger Games**

**Chapter 1**

As soon as the cannon sounded time seemed to stop. Suddenly Dean couldn't hear anything besides his own blood pounding in his ears. He glanced at the cornucopia, trying to locate the easy weapons and packs to carry, then turned his attention back to Sam. He promised Sam he would look out for him, and that was a promise Dean intended to keep. He had told Sam to head straight for the forest and find a spot to hide while the blood bath at the cornucopia cleared out. Dean on the other hand was going to try to get some supplies for them. He told Sam he would find him soon, but if he wasn't back in a few hours Sam should leave. Dean took a deep breath and started running.

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_In District twelve on the day of the reaping, Dean had put on a suit and tie. He had fought against it, but his father told him he had to look presentable. John Winchester was not always the best father in the world. Ever since Dean and Sam's mother died, John had never been the same. He had never been there for his sons. Dean had practically raised Sam on his own, making sure he got enough food and water even if that meant Dean didn't. Dean had gotten a job in the mines at a very young age and he worked with all of his free time so he could support his family._

_Dean had rubbed the amulet that Sam gave him between his fingers, a nervous habit, before tucking it beneath his shirt. Dean never found out where Sam had gotten the necklace, but he had given it to Dean as a thank you for everything he had done for him. Dean never took it off._

_Dean stepped into Sam's room before the reaping to see how he was doing. Sam always got extremely nervous so Dean was always there to calm him down, even if he was really terrified on the inside._

_"Hey Sammy," Dean forced a smile, stepping up behind his brother to fix his tie like he was twelve again. "How you doing?"_

_"It's reaping day," Sam replied, a worried expression plastered on his face. "How do you think I'm doing?"_

_"It'll be okay," Dean assured him, finishing up with his tie._

_Sam turned to face him, placing an oversized hand on Dean's shoulder. "But what if I get picked?"_

_Sam moved his hand back to his side as Dean wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."_

_"Dean," Sam whispered. "I don't want you to get picked either. And I don't want you to volunteer if I get picked."_

_"Well Sammy, I'm your big brother. It's my job to look out for you," Dean responded before backing away from Sam. "Now come on, the reaping is going to start soon."_

_As soon as Dean and Sam stepped out of the doorway to the tiny shack they called a house, Charlie was there waiting for them. "What's up bitches?" she asked teasingly._

_"Oh you know, just reaping day blues," Dean replied sarcastically as they began walking toward the reaping._

_"I know how that goes," Charlie sighed._

_"Don't worry, I'm sure you won't get picked," Dean smiled._

_Charlie smiled back at him before going in for a hug. Dean and Charlie had been good friends for as long as he could remember. She had kind of become like a little sister to him over the years. As Dean pulled back, he put on his best impersonation of the District twelve handler. "Well happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

_Charlie laughed but was quickly cut off by the tap of a microphone. "Attention everyone," the handler said, smoothing out her suit as she spoke._

_Dean leaned over the Charlie and whispered "Looks like Anna decided to go with your hair color this year," pointing at the handler's red bun._

_Charlie chuckled nervously before turning her attention back to the stage._

_"It is time to select two tributes to represent District twelve in the 183rd Hunger Games," she smiled, waiting patiently for a large bowl to be placed in front of her. "Our first tribute is," she fished around in the bowl for a few seconds, drawing out the suspense before finally settling on a slip of paper. She unfurled it, took a deep breath and called the name. "Charlie Bradbury."_

_Dean's eyes widened and his legs almost gave out beneath him. He turned slowly towards Charlie, taking in her expression of shock and terror. He knew his face was a mirror of hers. Suddenly he heard a voice rise up from the crowd. It took him a few seconds to realize that the voice was his own. Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing in front of the crowd yelling "I volunteer!"_

_"It seems we have a volunteer," Anna grinned, guiding him up to the stage._

_"Say your name for us," she told him._

_It took him a few seconds before he could get his voice to work again. "Dean Winchester," he forced out._

_"Dean Winchester!" she repeated. "Now let's get our second tribute."_

_She repeated the process of searching the bowl for the right slip before calling the name. This time when Dean heard the name, his legs did give out. He felt hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him upright as the name echoed in his head. Suddenly Dean wished he hadn't volunteered for Charlie. Because this person meant more to him than she ever could. "Sam Winchester!"_

_Sam slowly made his way onto the stage but didn't even bother with a brave face. By the time he was next to Anna, tears were running down his cheeks. "You are Dean's brother, correct?" Anna asked._

_"Yes," Sam murmured._

_Anna smiled like it was the best news she heard all day. Suddenly Dean's voice caught up with him. "Sammy!" he gasped and already he could feel people pulling him towards the door. "No! Sam!"_

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The Doctor heard the cannon sound and he immediately ran for Rose. He didn't care about getting supplies from the cornucopia, he could make all he needed by himself, he only cared for Rose's safety. So he found himself grabbing her hand and dashing for the forest, pulling her along awkwardly behind him.

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_The Doctor straightened the bow tie he was wearing with one hand and smoothed his hair with the other. Reaping day had never been a fun time for him. His friends were usually the ones to get picked. He didn't know why, it just happened that way. He barely had any friends left because of it. Vastra, Strax, Mickey, all gone because of the Games. The Doctor wasn't sure if anyone could hate the Hunger Games more than he did._

_Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Rose Tyler, his best and only friend, smiling up at him. "A bow tie, huh?" she laughed._

_"Bow ties are cool," The Doctor muttered, looking at the pink puffy dress Rose wore. "You look lovely."_

_Rose took a few steps back a twirled around once. "You like it?"_

_"I do," The Doctor confirmed, reaching for her hand. "Are you ready?"_

_Rose sighed before taking it. "As I'll ever be." Then they began walking towards the reaping._

_The Doctor stole glances at Rose whenever he thought she wasn't looking. She was his best friend, but he liked her as more than a friend, he knew that for sure. But he wasn't sure if she liked him back. So he kept quiet about his feelings, always acting like she was just his friend, nothing more._

_Once they arrived at the reaping, the handler was already on stage, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a pony tail. "Jenny looks like me this year," Rose laughed, never letting go of The Doctor's hand._

_The Doctor laughed with her but didn't take his eyes off the stage. "Yeah she does."_

_"The time had come to select two tributes to represent District three!" Jenny was saying enthusiastically, but The Doctor wasn't really paying attention. He was thinking about Rose, trying to calm himself. It wasn't until his name was called and he was being ushered onto the stage that he broke focus. He looked back at Rose to see her horrified expression before settling his gaze down at his feet. He didn't look back up until they called Rose's name. Then he was sure his face wasn't emotionless like he had intended it to be. He knew it was a mask of fear._

_"What are your names?" Jenny asked._

_"The Doctor," he whispered, gaze fixed on Rose._

_Rose could barely get her name out through the sudden lump in her throat._

_Jenny turned back to the audience and exclaimed "Rose and The Doctor, your District three tributes!"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! I am back for another chapter of Superwholock Games! Again, I would really appreciate it if you would review so I know if you like this story or not. So here it is ladies and gentlemen!**

**Chapter 2**

The piercing sound of the cannon blared through Sherlock's ears. His focus was not directed to the cornucopia, but to his best friend John. Sherlock's eyes jet towards the platform where John stood nervously. John looked towards Sherlock who nodded approvingly towards him. They had created a plan for the Hunger Games years ago, when they first became friends. They had always talked about if they were reaped together and if they had to fight in the area together, they would stick with their master plan and not kill each other.

Sherlock made sure that John wouldn't go towards the cornucopia. John was considered bait to the other district tributes. If Sherlock was in a different district, he would think of John the same. John was a short boy. A very short boy. He always carried an innocent look on his face even though he was very self spoken towards Sherlock.

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_Sherlock walked out of his house. He wasn't afraid of the reaping thinking that if he thought about it too much, he would get reaped. John approached Sherlock from behind. _

"_Sherlock!" John yelled. _

_Sherlock turned his body around to face John. He was dressed in a light blue shirt. A muddy green colored sweater vest was thrown over the dress shirt. John tugged at it nervously. _

"_A sweater vest..." Sherlock detected. _

"_Yes Sherlock." John admitted. "I thought that the shirt looked weird without it."_

_Sherlock squinted his eyes at John's outfit, observing it carefully. _

"_Oh please John. Do not wear that outfit in public. I believe everyone goes through enough emotional trauma on reaping day. I don't think your sweater vest will exactly brighten their mood, now will it?"_

_John looked down at his chest, now questioning his fashion choice. _

"_But-" John protested. _

"_Hmm?" Sherlock grinned. _

"_Well what about that stupid scarf your wearing?!" John pointed at the blue scarf that was wrapped around Sherlock's neck. _

"_Oh what, you mean this thing?" Sherlock questioned pointing at it. John nodded, tugging at the itchy fabric on his sweater vest again._

"_Unlike your monstrosity, mine looks very pleasing and attractive to the eye. Along with that, blue is known to be very calming and peaceful as does the body create calming chemicals when your eyes perceive the color blue. Thus, makes at least some of these quivering people, including you, calm on this fine day." _

_Sherlock cleared his throat as he adjusted his scarf. _

_John stared at Sherlock. Then, he took of the sweater vest, leaving it in the dirt._

_The boys arrived to the site of the reaping. _

_John pulled on Sherlock's black overcoat. "Sherlock." _

"_What?" Sherlock muttered. _

"_Sherlock listen to me. I know you don't care about the reaping, but-" _

"_I don't care?" Sherlock interrupted. "Its not that I don't care about this meaningless established event. I do not believe in it. And according to the multitudes of cameras and the arranged area, it is obvious that these Games are in fact, made up. Rigged as you might say." _

"_Sherlock." John whined. _

"_Haven't we done this already?" Sherlock remarked. _

"_No Sherlock listen to me. If you get picked, just don't...ah how do I say it, be yourself."_

"_Myself? Why?"_

"_You can be a bit rude sometimes. Just be polite, don't ask to many questions, and definitely do not give them any of your smart ass answers."_

"_Hm. They might actually like that, you know." Sherlock smiled. _

_John scoffed. "Yeah right. Lets go." _

_Sherlock noticed the reaper sitting on the stage, holding a microphone._

"_The reaper. The name's Anderson. A middle class citizen." Sherlock observed. "His suit. Two buttons on the shirt and the suit itself are not buttoned. The material appears to be wrinkled even though all the suits that are provided for the reapers from the Capitol are ironed beforehand. This obviously indicates an affair. Most likely a fellow office mate. Anyone who has an office affair and forgets to even button his shirt, is well away from stupidity. His stupidity ranks rather high, in fact. I wouldn't be shocked if his IQ level is lower than you're last girlfriends'." _

"_ ." John groaned. _

"_What? Im not false, you know." _

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Sherlock begins to run in the opposite direction of the new found bloodbath. He didn't recognize any of the bloodbath victims as he was running away, which was mostly a good thing. Sherlock and Johns' plan instructed them to go their separate ways until night comes, then, they would meet at the river, which was not far away from the cornucopia. During their time away from each other, they would look for food and weapons.

Sherlock hoped that John would be safe. Leaving him alone in the area might have not been the best idea in Sherlock's eyes, but John insisted on it.

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"_Welcome District 8! The Hunger Games are here. Be prepared, for what this game will bring you, is extraordinary and new." Anderson began. _

"_Yes. He knows just as much as the next idiotic reaper out there." Sherlock smirked. _

_John groaned at Sherlocks comment. "Shush." _

"_So, we've got a busy schedule." Anderson continued._

"_I bet." Sherlock whispered._

"_And so that means, its time to pick two of you young fellows, to represent District 8 in the 183rd Hunger Games." _

_Sherlock was not prepared for the words that came out of Anderson's mouth. The name that was written on that slip of paper in fine ink, it wasn't Sherlocks'. _

_It was John's._

"_John Watson. Come up here." Anderson huffed. _

_Sherlock's mind went dizzy. The next name was a muffle to him until someone next to him, shoved him saying to go up on stage. _

"_What? Why me?" Sherlock asked._

_Anderson's voice boomed through the microphone."Sherlock Holmes. You have been reaped. You are a tribute. Welcome to the Hunger Games."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello there! I am back for another chapter if the Superwholock Games! I hope you enjoy it. I would really like some feedback for this story, so I would love it if you would leave me a review! Thanks :)**

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**Chapter 3**

The sound of the cannon pounded in Castiel's ears and he took off for the cornucopia, just like he was taught to do. Pretty much everyone in District one and two were trained to compete in the Games, that's why they were called the 'career tributes', but Castiel didn't want that. He had hoped he wouldn't get picked, but now here he was, ready to kill innocent people for his own survival. At least he felt remorse when he murdered people, unlike the other tributes from Districts one and two, Meg Masters, Michael and Lucifer. Castiel had never really liked Meg, even if she was from his District. She had always been a major flirt and came on too strong. Castiel hated thinking about it this way, but Meg was kind of known for being the District whore. Castiel had never been one for labels though.

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_Castiel had gotten dressed and simply walked to the reaping. There was no worry on his face, no fear in his eyes as he strode toward the mass of people crowding around the stage. He was from District one after all, he was made for this. Just like every year, a thin, scruffy looking man named Alastair was on the stage. "The time has come to select tributes for the 183rd annual Hunger Games."_

_He fished around the bowl a bit for a slip of paper and Castiel almost rolled his eyes at how Alastair was trying to build up tension. "Castiel Novak," he called out, voice rough and raspy._

_Castiel held his head high out of instinct and made his way toward the stage, but he couldn't help the sudden wave of panic that clawed its way up his throat. He stood completely still and professional as he heard another name called. "Meg Masters."_

_He saw a girl with dark curls and eyes as black as the night sky saunter up on to the stage, a smirk on her face. She did a quick once over on Castiel, sizing him up before finally flashing him a wink._

_"Your tributes, Castiel Novak and Meg Masters," Alastair called out to the audience. He turned to them, smiling wolfishly. "May the odds be ever in your favor."_

_Castiel had begun to walk toward the building when he felt Meg's hand on his arm. "Hey there Clarence," she drawled._

_"I don't understand that reference," Castiel told her, pulling his arm away from her grip._

_"Your name is Castiel. Castiel is the angel of Thursday. Clarence is the angel in the movie 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Make sense?"_

_"I guess…" Castiel muttered._

_"Well Clarence, since we're both in the Games and we're both careers, it seems we'll have plenty of time to…" she trailed off, leaning closer so she could whisper in his ear. "Get to know each other."_

_Castiel pulled back and fixed her with a glare. "No thanks," he looked her up and down before settling his gaze back on her face. "You're not really my type."_

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Castiel grabbed the first backpack he could get to and slung it over his shoulder, making his way toward the horn for weapons. He dashed to the nearest knife and bent to pick it up when he felt a hand grabbing his shirt. He spun on his heel, grabbing the arm as he whipped around and thrust the knife forward. Martha Jones stared up at him for a couple seconds before Castiel pulled the blade out of her gut and she collapsed into a lifeless heap on the ground.

He dashed through the crowd of tributes, running for the forest. He had all the supplies he needed and he honestly didn't want to get mixed up with the other career tributes. He only stopped when he heard a cry of pain. He turned to see Dean, a knife protruding from his shoulder, trying to fight off Lestrade with his one good hand. Before he knew what he was doing, Castiel was behind Lestrade, digging the knife into his flesh. As soon as Lestrade fell, Castiel held out a hand to Dean. Dean flinched and scrambled backward, a whimper escaping his lips as the knife in his shoulder ground against bone. "Let me help you," Castiel whispered awkwardly.

Dean glared up at Castiel, green eyes piercing blue. "You're going to kill me."

"No, I won't," Castiel pleaded. He didn't know why, but there was something about Dean that made Castiel want to protect him. Even during training Dean had the ability to make Castiel's heart stop with one glance. "I promise. But we don't have time to argue, or we'll both be dead. Just take my hand."

Castiel didn't know what made Dean change his mind. Maybe he saw something in Castiel's eyes that made Dean believe him. He was being sincere after all. So Dean took Castiel's hand. And against everything Castiel was taught about the Hunger Games, he didn't kill Dean. He helped him.


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